


Bitter Truths and Burning Scorn

by Entropic_Wren



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Evan Henare (oc), Feels, Gen, Hercules Hansen (briefly), Sydney Shatterdome, Waimarie Anderson (oc), You Have Been Warned, it's a rough ride for everyone, reference to character deaths, reference to other ocs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23559961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropic_Wren/pseuds/Entropic_Wren
Summary: A Shatterdome commanders job was never easy. But nothing hurt more than losing another ranger, the letter and changing of status burned him more than his whiskey ever did.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Bitter Truths and Burning Scorn

**Author's Note:**

> ...I seem to only have worked on this piece whenever I was in a bad mood. But boy listening to songs like Solider On by Temper Trap... or What if the Storm End by Snow Patrol... It doesn't help it.

Grace and Percival Moses were not necessarily synonymous. But he had prided himself once of having grace under pressure despite all his rough edges.

He was learning though, with each pilot pair he lost – that he in fact didn’t have such grace. However, he did not once think he could possibly let his cool shatter completely... That was until that moment he, in his office as he had to write yet another letter, heard the voice of Chuck Hansen over the television.

_“…Mediocre pilots…”_

Alike to a bull to a red flag, Perc had snapped his pen, ignoring the blue ink as is splattered all over his hand in favour of storming out of his office. Descending from the atrium he made quick work of walking through LOCCENT, ignoring every person who tried to stop him, before stalking his way to one of the gangways and allows his voice to echo through his Jaeger Bay.

“RANGERS HANSEN. MY OFFICE. NOW.”

With that he stormed his way back, feeling no need to repeat himself. Seven years was enough time to induce a sense of fear of God into everyone when it came to his bellowing.

The ink had completely ruined the letter he had been writing by the time Herc and Chuck had arrived.

“What the fuck was that stunt you were trying to pull kid,” Perc found himself nearly snarling.

Of course, when you gave one Charles Hansen attitude, you had to expect attitude right back.

“Saying the truth.”

The grey-haired man paused for a moment, staring Chuck down trying to reign in his temper before proceeding to speak in tones so low it had to force the kid to listen carefully.

“The moment, you said that you might as well have been spitting on the graves on two newly deceased pilots,” He said slowly, “You, on national television, unapologetically labelled every pilot that has ever come before you as mediocre IN FRONT OF THEIR FAMILIES.”

“If they were any good they wouldn’t be dead.”

“Do you want to say that to their families personally then?” Perc challenge, reminding himself to remain in control, “How about I call up Griffin and Zachery’s families and you can tell them that? Hell while we’re at it let’s throw in the Anderson’s and Henare’s. Want to explain to them how if they weren’t mediocre Evan would be alive? How about a direct trip to Kodiak and you can say that to Waimarie’s face?”

That seemed to finally pull the rug from underneath the twenty-one-year-old. Any other day Perc would have felt guilty for doing it. But not today. Not went he now had to write an apology on top of it all.

“That is all Hansen. Dismissed.”

And to continue the day of milestones was that. It wasn’t often Perc referred to Chuck by his surname… especially when there was more than one Hansen in front of him.

But the kid knew how to test his patience, good solider or not.

…And wasn’t that a disgusting sentence.

After Chuck had strode out with Herc on his heel, Perc wearily sat in his chair, clean hand running along his near buzz-cut before his eyes trailed out to the window view of the jaeger bay.

…the near-empty jaeger bay…

Bits of Vulcan was coming in. But it would never amount to the machine that used to stand alongside Striker.

 _‘It would be yet another empty spot that would never be filled_ , Perc had noted to himself as his eyes trailed to the banner which still hung for Kraken… even though the jaeger was far from home and her crew was scattered.

With a sigh, Perc dragged himself out of his seat and to his cupboard, which he still thought to himself was more of an overly glorified footlocker. Pulling out a bottle and a glass, he poured himself a drink before grabbing a few manila folders and carried them over to the desk.

Flipping it open he was instantly met with a photo. A photo with a set of young brown laughing eyes, and a set of blue that had tried to hold back their amusement… He had not seen the owners of either in years… and wouldn’t see one in particular ever again.

Perc had come to accept this bitter truth.

It hurt though regardless.

They were his rangers as much as they were Pentecost’s.

And regardless of all the jokes, …they were practically his kids. Especially the younger ones… which made the burning red of the ‘INACTIVE’ stamped onto the first page, that little more painful.

And now here he was. Having to set them aside, ignore his oath of not losing another. Not again. To pull a folder with another two pilots, and to raise that stamp and slam it onto the paper. Echoing oh so poetically well with the knife which was being stabbed into his chest.


End file.
